Birthdays
by NJW94
Summary: A pre-movie one-shot, from my Tumblr. Vanellope has an interesting birthday party, with the help of her friendly neighbourhood monarch.


The last two days, for Vanellope von Schweetz, had been _confusing_.

The first memory she had since her game was plugged in was standing just outside the Code Room, and King Candy yelling and telling her she'd tried to hack it. And she hadn't remembered _that _bit, but the guards had thrown her out and since then none of the other racers would talk to her.

And the castle was _important_, and she didn't know why.

Regardless, she'd busied herself. She didn't know where she was meant to live, and she'd tried to go to the Victor's Village and the other racers'd fired power-ups at her until she ran away. Luckily, there was a spot at the bottom of the volcano she'd run into - literally, which'd proved handy for evading the pursuing C.L.A.W. team - that'd make a pretty cosy home for her, if she dressed it up right.

So she'd headed to the Junkyard, that evening, while all the other racers would be busy with their stupid Roster Race she didn't even want to go to anyway, to pick up some furniture. Now she was heading back out of the rusty gates past the half-stripped carcasses of karts, and a stack of blankets wobbled, in an uneven little pile, in her hands.

"Whatcha doin'?"

The girl jumped back in surprise, and a violent glitch of blue binary sizzled through her system. The candy-wrappers blankets in her hands were tossed up into the air, and fluttered away on the rustling wind.

Taffyta Muttonfudge gave a smile, and adjusted the lollipop in her mouth to the other faintly-orange cheek. Her plasticky-pink outfit seemed to sparkle in the bloody red rays of the setting sun, and Vanellope suddenly felt very conscious of the dirt on her clothes. She narrowed her eyes, like a mouse at a cat that'd just offered to shake hands.

"Who wants to know?"

"Everyone." The other girl's mascara-lined eyes shone, with carefully-composed excitement. "There's a party for you over at the castle!"

At that, Vanellope stiffened, and she took a step back, her glowering scowl radiating suspicion. "Uh-huh, sure. An' I'm _the Queen._"

"Look, I _mean_ it." Taffyta gestured an arm to the castle. As if on cue, a barrage of acid-green fireworks launched themselves from the parapets, lining themselves into some position or other before exploding, in brilliant showers of light. They made Vanellope's face, and it winked at her.

The smaller, fleshier Vanellope face raised an eyebrow, in confusion. But at the back of her eyes, flickering like a pile of dried wood with a spark blown onto it, was hope. "And…that's all for me?"

"Sure. King Candy said it was his favourite day or something. And there'll be cake and dancing and a Roster Race at the end of it." Taffyta turned on her heel, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in knowing delight. "But I'll tell him you don't wanna come-"

"N̢ ̸̸͠Ǫ͠ ̴!̴" …Vanellope immediately lowered her hands back down, embarrassed that she'd raised them up so desperately, and jammed them in her pockets. "I mean I'll come! Sure!" Her own little smirk crept onto her features, defensively. "Show you guys how a _real_ racer does it."

"Good luck with _that_." Taffyta's own eyebrow raised, but warmly. "C'mon. You can sit in the side-car."

The two girls headed down the sloping road that led up to the Junkyard to Taffyta's Pink Lightning, waiting faithfully to the side of the biscuit-paved path. As promised, she'd bolted on the matching sidecar. Vanellope remarked, wryly and internally, that for once it could seat someone who wasn't Rancis.

The two jumped into their racing car, and Taffyta revved her purring engine like the professional she was before zooming back up the hill, turning at the Junkyard and heading down to the Royal Raceway. Another bloom of fireworks grew in the rich, ebony soil of the night sky, just to be scenic.

The Pink Lightning was always fast. In no time at all, they'd moved onto the white brick aqueduct that led to King Candy's castle, the yawning valley that surrounded his mountain stretching deeper and deeper beneath them. The scenery blurred around them, but the bridge was firm, and anyway Vanellope was just excited to be in a real race-car.

She wondered if she'd have a kart of her own, up there. She'd have to, to be in the Roster Race, right?

Eventually the thick walls of the castle loomed in front of them, and the ornate, slender steel gates scraped back to allow them in. Marshmallow torches lit up the night like fireflies pinned to a board, and bathed the candy-coated flora that provided a blanket of colour for the Royal Gardens in a rich, tawny-orange glow.

The main doors parted for them, like mountains forming a gorge, and then the kart's tyres squealed as it braked to a stop. The Oreo guards standing to attention slammed their spears curtly on the ground in salute, and only the stained-glass door to the King's throne room seemed to stand between the girl and her party. She could hear voices, excited ones, and bursts of giggling. Taffyta nodded, and gestured lightly to the door.

"It's right through there."

Vanellope's heart tightened, butterscotchflies fluttering in her stomach, and she stepped out of the sidecar. The guards weren't moving to grab her, just watching her expectantly, as she inched her way along the plush red carpet and reached a hand for the door. She opened it.

"…Van~ELLOPE! Oh, hoohoo, oh come ON, you're jutht in TIME, hah!"

King Candy bounded towards her like an excited spaniel, the bells on his shoes jingling as he took her by the hand. His face shone, cheerful and warm, any incidents with hacking the Code Room apparently totally forgotten. Not that she remembered any. But she could explain that later. After racing.

Everyone else was there too, smiling. Some waved, or flashed their extravagant entrance animations in excited joy. There was Rancis next to Gloyd, and Candlehead apparently trying to melt an ice-sculpture of a swan, and Jubileena and Adorabeezle talking by the fruit juice. They were all there, racers and recolours, right across the room. And the room-

-it'd been dressed up nicely. Banners of mint-green and brown flags were draped, gaudily, along both the walls. Tables laden with piles and piles of sugar-laden foods formed walls all around her, and her stomach growled as she remembered the last time she'd eaten, and all the times she hadn't. Balloons floated around the confetti-strewn floor or nudged the roof, and even Sour Bill'd taken a seat over at a pipe-organ they'd seemingly dragged in, playing a jauntily chipper little song.

And all of it was for _her_. She glowed, and gave a wan little smile. It'd been a while. Then it widened, as she peered up at the grinning King.

"So, when do we get to the races?"

"OH! Hoohoohoo! WELL, give me a MO~ment, dear!" He nodded, leading her down to the table just in front of his kart-throne. It was covered, completely, by a thick blue tarpaulin. "Your OTHER kart'th just out~SIDE, hahhah, b-but I thought you'd like THITH one first~!"

He hauled the tarpaulin off, with a flourish, and the racers stared with awe and gave a pre-rehearsed gasp. This kart was a cake, opulent and decadent and beautiful, made of bouncy, light sponge and gooey, rich filling and slathers of dribbling, dripping icing.

Vanellope shook her head tightly. She was reeling, and tried to find words. They came out of her throat stammering, quiet.

"….t-thank you. All of ya."

"You're quite _welcome_, dear." The King smiled, jolly and benevolent, and let go of the girl's hand. "You know, thweetheart, today's my _favourite_ day of the _year_."

She nodded, briefly, and took her steps forward, eyes brimming with joy and glowing with_ acceptance_. She picked up her paper plate, reached over to pick up a slice-

-and the King strode forward, and mashed her face into it.

The girl spasmed and glitched, icing sloshing all over her face and drizzling down her hair. Deceptively sour filling burned at her throat and stung her eyes, and she staggered back, stumbling, as the cackles of laughter rose up all around her, slapped her. The racers were in hysterics, and cried out in unison.

_"APRIL FOOLS!"_

The girl trembled, and turned to run, and the King's cane neatly jutted out and tripped her. She collapsed forward, landing with a painful jolt and sprawling on the chequered tiles of the throne room, just in time for him to stop laughing and catch his breath.

"NOW, Thowah Bill!"

"M'kay."

The little butler pulled a rope, and a dollop of searing-hot molasses - the stuff they used to pave tracks -splooshed down onto her. She gave a scream, and stumbled to her feet, slipping back down onto a sore, trembling knee as slicks of icing and smears of molasses moved treacherously under her boots.

"And the _**FINISHER~!**_"

The racers' hands shot to their pockets, and handfuls of fluffy white feathers emerged to be thrown, in billowing clumps, at the glitchy, stuttering mess currently running to the door. Hot, stinging tears were burning down her cheeks, and she tried her hardest to muffle her sobs. _THEY_ weren't gonna hear them. They _WEREN'T._

She swung the door open, and as the guards lurched to grab her and drag her to the Fungeon she glitched straight through their grip, in a sparking, fritzing mess, and bolted out through the gates. She could hear the King, angry and yelling about incompetence, behind her, and felt the tiniest pang of vindictive joy in the broiling, raw sea of painful sadness.

Either way, she wouldn't be going near the castle again for a long, long time. And that suited the King down to the ground.

Taffyta Muttonfudge looked at the mashed-up cake, and the trail of smears and feathers, and the open door, and felt something. It felt bad. It _hurt._

"Hoohoo! That…t-that now THAT wath HYS_TERICAL_, wasn't it!" The monarch wiped a tear from his eye. "_Hah_! BETHT day EVER! I'm so proud of ALL of you~! NOW, let'th do thith party PROPERLY! My TREAT!"

That got a fresh wave of cheers, as servants emerged to clean up the mess and restock the food and bring out the party games, and Taffyta Muttonfudge, the budding young socialite she was, cheered up immediately and prepared for a wonderful evening.

Mostly.


End file.
